


After the Rain Falls

by Jellyfish_Tacos



Series: Kishi Kaisei [1]
Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga), Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 1980s, 80s AU, Amputee Shiro (Voltron), Angst, College Student Shiro (Voltron), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hair Braiding, Hair Brushing, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Japanese Culture, Japanese Keith (Voltron), Japanese Shiro (Voltron), Librarian Eiji Okumura, Libraries, M/M, Mutual Pining, Mystery, Nightmares, Rain, Referenced/Implied Shadam, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Supernatural Elements, White-Haired Shiro (Voltron), a bit of horror, age gap, castle in the sky - Freeform, city pop, long-haired shiro, slowburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 15:32:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15776943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jellyfish_Tacos/pseuds/Jellyfish_Tacos
Summary: Shiro has returned back to his schooling after a terrible accident that left him missing an arm and haunted by what he suffered through. One day as he's studying in the library, he glimpses a mysterious boy outside in the freezing rain. Intrigued and captivated, Shiro begins to get to know him and uncovers an unearthly mystery in the process.





	1. Ue wo Muite Arukou

**Author's Note:**

> I assigned a song to each of the chapters, and you guys should listen to them if you feel so inclined <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C35DrtPlUbc  
> A very lovely song~ I adore the whistling.

The rain was light outside, more of a warm sprinkling from the heavens than a true rain. The sky was overcast and painted in gray, but stark patches of blue peered through as vivid as blue jays on snowy branches, or sapphires nestled in white silk. The pattering of rain droplets tapping against the window glass was a calming ambience as Shiro read through his textbook and jotted down notes. The process dragged at times, his left hand cramping in protest. 

His hand wasn’t accustomed to shouldering the burden of all of the tasks it was now expected to complete all on its own. Even after all that therapy, sometimes his left hand forgot what it was meant to be doing in an open act of mutiny. Writing proved to be an even more arduous undertaking when he was fatigued, just like now. His eyes felt like they could slip closed at any moment and he’d hit his head against the library table. 

It wasn’t even that late in the afternoon. A combination of not catching a wink of sleep the night prior, the gentle lulling of the rain’s siren song, and the dull words swimming before him argued a compelling case for him to be sleeping. 

However, Shiro pressed on. He did his best to take a deep breath and continue working. Patience yields focus, after all. He was improving with his writing, certainly, but occasionally he would still try and pick up a writing utensil with his hand that wasn’t there anymore. Clunky, stiff plastic fingers would awkwardly bump against the pencil before he could think about what he was doing. He knew that he would eventually become accustomed to using his left hand, but the journey was slow and frustrating. He was better than when he’d entered therapy, but still had a long way to go. 

Shiro looked up at the clock on the wall and saw that the hands indicated 10:45, then stretched out his cramped hand. His eyes shifted to look out of the window, and then he stopped and blinked. He leaned forward to see better, adjusting his glasses. There was a boy out there, slowly trudging down the street with his eyes downcast. His old-fashioned gakuran was drenched in the rain. If he cared about the situation he was in at all, it didn’t show. He had no umbrella, and seemed in no hurry to escape the weather. 

Shiro picked up his black umbrella and quickly left the library. He slowly, jerkily shook it open and then peered left and right to see if he could spot the boy, but… he was nowhere in sight. It was as if he’d vanished into thin air. It appeared that the rain had cleared up as well. 

Shiro looked up to the heavens, where the clouds had just parted, and a streak of sunlight peeked out from between them. The rays beamed down into the alleyway and grew brighter by the moment. As he turned to glance down the road the other direction one last time, he noticed that a misty, pale rainbow had formed against the backdrop of the slate sky. 

He stood there and admired it, but it faded as quickly as it had materialized and he returned to the library. He figured that the boy had probably entered one of the buildings, and didn’t dwell much on it after that. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

It was raining again. The droplets slid down the window and merged into rivulets. The light from street lamps reflected on the water with blurry golden highlights. There was a heavy downpour outside of the comforts of the library, and the sheets of water battered the streets and cars in a relentless offensive attack. 

Shiro did not look forward to having to walk back to his apartment in the rain, but it wasn’t like he had much of a choice, either. He couldn’t control the weather, and he couldn’t live at the library forever. Besides, he didn’t live all that far away. Perhaps the rain would lighten its barrage by the time he was done taking notes; it was, as usual, an excruciatingly slow process involving his non-dominant hand. 

From the corner of his eye, he spotted movement outside the window. He automatically looked over, figuring it was a car. Not a ton of people came down this way unless they were going to the library, especially at this time of night. 

‘Oh.’ Shiro blinked. It was that boy again, trudging down the road in that same rain-drenched gakuran as before. You’d think he would have learned his lesson and brought an umbrella or something. Maybe this time Shiro could catch him before he left. 

He grabbed his umbrella once more and hurried out the door, his footsteps muffled from the unappealing maroon and tan carpeting. He didn’t see if the librarian had shot him a nasty look, being too focused on his mission. He burst out of the door and into the street, then looked down the road and saw the boy not too far off. He headed off in his direction, struggling to open the umbrella as he went, and his quick steps splashed up water and soaked his trousers. 

“Hey!” he called out in a friendly voice. The strange boy didn’t respond, and Shiro closed the distance between them. “Hey,” he repeated, a little breathless. The boy looked up at him, startled. “You looked cold.” Shiro smiled and held out the umbrella so that the stranger could take it. He looked at Shiro in confusion, eyes slightly narrowed as if he was studying his face. 

Up close, Shiro could see that he had double-eyelids and other subtle western features, such as the shape of his nose. He must part American or something of the sort. Faint freckles spotted his pale cheeks, barely there at all. There was a pink birthmark on his jawline, edges like watercolor. His eyebrows were thick and angled, now scrunched together. 

His lips were slightly plump, and had a sort of bluish tinge to them. His hair was closely and roughly cropped to his scalp on the sides, but tufts of thick, wet black hair peeked out from under the brim of his hat. His eyes were a dark color, and appeared a warm chocolate as the incandescent light from the street lamp illuminated them. Maintaining eye contact like that, Shiro’s heart began to race unexpectedly. The boy slowly stretched out a hand, as if wary, and accepted the umbrella. 

“Thank you,” he said simply, and bowed his head. He then moved to continue walking. 

“Do you need someone to walk with you?” Shiro offered, heart still beating quickly. The boy glanced back briefly. 

“I’m fine.” He moved off down the street, and that was that. 

Shiro was left there in the downpour, watching his retreating back. The black gakuran and umbrella eventually blended into the darkness. After he was out of sight, Shiro still stood there for a moment, dazed. He blinked and was snapped back into reality, where the rain was freezing and merciless. He dashed back into the library. 

Shiro settled back into his creaky wooden chair and his pulse gradually returned to normal. He pulled off his glasses and dried them on the part of his white shirt that had managed not to get soaked. As he returned to his work, he kept finding his thoughts circling back to the strange boy. 

Who was he? Did he live around the area? Why was he traversing the roads at 11:00 at night? But Shiro couldn’t draw and definitive conclusions, so he just kept picking his way through his textbook. He glanced up from his work and saw that the clock indicated that it was nearly 12, so he slowly packed up his things. 

It was still raining outside, so he clutched his bag to his chest and ran most of the way to his apartment building. The stranger’s face still lingered in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like this so far, please subscribe! I will be posting the rest of the chapters over the course of the day <3


	2. Morning Glory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro can't seem to get the strange boy that he saw walking in the rain out of his mind, and finds himself hoping to see him again. Fortunately, he gets the chance to talk to him and introduce himself, and is left wanting to get to know him better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sOagBP8ldG4  
> (This song always gets stuck in my head :D)

The figure of the boy that had been walking in the rain just wouldn’t leave Shiro’s mind. He haunted his thoughts, lurking behind biology formulas and historical figures. He intrigued him with the mysteriousness that surrounded him. What was his story? The stranger with the fierce, mesmerizing eyes and little details over his face that integrated into a lovely and appealing whole. 

Shiro did not get much sleep that night, although he tried his best. His dreams were repetitive and cyclical in a convoluted and headache-inducing way, and he kept slipping in and out of them until about 6 am, when he decided that trying to sleep when his body was utterly rejecting the idea of it was not going to work. 

Instead, Shiro fumbled for his glasses, then got up off of his futon and pulled the blinds open. Light flooded the room. The sun shone brightly as it made its grand entrance into the day. Shiro looked out as the rest of the city laid itself before him, below the hill that his apartment was built upon. The sprawling buildings were like a sea of gravestones rising up, shrouded in a ghostly fog. 

Shiro opened the window to the feeling of cool, refreshing morning air kissing his cheeks and gently caressing his hair. He lingered there for a moment, taking in wonderful cold breaths. Leaving the window open, he moved to the apartment’s small bathroom and got into gray sweatpants, a black t-shirt, and his light purple waterproof jacket that had clashing teal sections.

He brushed his hair and put it into a ponytail, then slathered shaving foam over his face. Watching closely in the mirror, he made odd facial expressions while shaving in order to reach the difficult spots. His left hand was still shaky and not precise, causing him to nick himself. 

“Agh!” he examined the cut in his reflection and sighed. Oh well, nothing that a bandaid wouldn’t fix. He set down the shaver with a clatter before rummaging in the cupboard and procured a pouch of Hello Kitty bandaids. They’d been on sale, and he wasn’t about to pass up a deal when the functionality of the product was the same as the full-priced ones. He took one out and set it aside. 

Once the shaving cream was rinsed away and his smooth face was dried, he applied the little latex bandage, with its yellow and blue cat faces. He smiled firmly in the mirror and then left the bathroom. 

His history seminar was later that morning, so he had time for a jog. He grappled with his laces to tie his sneakers with his one hand, then grabbed an apple from his mini-fridge and walked out of the apartment. Holding the fruit in his teeth, he locked the door. He ate it as he walked, and made sure that the core got into the trash. 

The colors of autumn were just beginning to display themselves, fiery shades of red and yellow hiding amongst green leaves. Shiro started to jog, admiring the natural beauty of the campus grounds. The rising sun bathed every surface in a golden light as if Midas had brushed his fingertips over them.

Shiro wasn’t as in shape as he’d like to be, but he knew it was going to take a while to build up to how he’d been before the accident. He felt lopsided as he jogged (he hadn’t worn his prosthetic arm for this; it was just dead weight), but he hoped that he would eventually become accustomed to it. For now, it was nothing that he couldn’t handle. 

Shiro completed the path of his usual morning run, then checked his watch. He had another two hours left before class began. He really had gotten up early. Thinking of how this added time would be great for his cardiorespiratory endurance, he pressed on. His breaths were coming faster, but he could still carry on a conversation if he wanted to. 

When Shiro reached the library, he came to a stop in front of it. Without consciously making the decision to, he’d been drawn back to this place as if attracted by an invisible magnetic force. 

Admittedly, he was disappointed that the boy from the night before wasn’t there, even though he was fully aware how foolish and illogical that feeling was. What had his unconscious been expecting in taking him here? Rubbing the back of his neck, Shiro chuckled to himself. He looked up at the azure sky, and then to his watch.

Before he headed back the way he had come so that he could return to his apartment and change, Shiro took one last glance over his shoulder to be certain that the stranger hadn’t shown up (even though his rational brain told him that this was highly unlikely). The boy wasn’t there, of course. 

Shiro shook his head and smiled as he turned his head to face forward. Perhaps it was just the blood supplying extra oxygen to his muscles, but he felt his cheeks grow warmer. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

It was raining once more. Shiro kept catching himself gazing out the window, the shapes beyond it distorted by water. The features of the buildings across the street were blurred, like a face that you just can’t quite remember. The rain wasn’t too heavy, but was still unceasing. 

It was chilly inside of the library, and Shiro shivered. His purple windbreaker was zipped up completely to try and retain more warmth. (All of his other jackets had buttons, but they were difficult to fasten one-handed and so usually Shiro just wore this one.) The librarians either forgot to turn on the thermostat or had deliberately neglected to in an attempt to save money. Goosebumps peppered his skin.

On the topic of cold, Shiro’s false arm was frigid against his skin, seeping into his bones. He unfastened it and it laid on the table, fake and lifeless. It was a forearm prosthetic (the amputation site was a little ways below his elbow). Before returning to his monotonous work, he peered out the window again. He did a double-take, then stood. He hit the table when he shot up, but he barely noticed. He left his prosthetic behind. When he raced for the door, an elderly librarian reshelving returned books called, “No running in the library!” after him in a fierce whisper. 

Shiro rushed out into the street, heart pounding. He was still there. Shiro swallowed and then shakily inhaled and exhaled. He gathered himself together, then quickly strode over and caught up to the stranger in no time at all. The boy was still carrying the umbrella that Shiro had gifted him, and appeared disorientated. 

“I’m so glad to-” Shiro cut himself off, and the stranger turned around. “Sorry.” He laughed, a bit sheepishly. “I never properly introduced myself. My name is Shirogane Takashi.” With a bow, he said, “It’s nice to meet you.” 

The boy stared at him for a moment.  
“Kogane Keith,” he said slowly, as if the words felt strange in his mouth. He ducked his head stiffly. ‘Ah, so he is mixed race,’ Shiro thought to himself. ‘Keith.’ He attached the name to the boy like he was tying a tag to a gift bag. 

“Are you lost, Kogane-san? Do you need directions?” 

Keith appeared to be thinking. He swallowed and opened his mouth, eyes brimming with desire to say words that he couldn’t find. Shiro noticed that even though he was holding the umbrella over his head, he was still soaking wet. Water dripped from his hair and clothes. But then Keith pressed his lips together again firmly. 

“No,” he said curtly, and the bluntness alarmed Shiro a bit. “But thank you,” Keith added quickly. His eyes were down and he fidgeted with the umbrella handle. 

“Well, if you’re certain…” Shiro replied. He stood there awkwardly, the sound of raindrops splashing on the pavement filling the void of silence between them. Shiro should really have moved then and said farewell, but he was busy drinking in Keith’s face. He’d noted the western features before, but he was really stunningly handsome. He’d never been so captivated before.

Shiro realized he’d been staring, and blinked. 

“Um…” He swallowed, then composed himself. “Well, I’ll be going then. I hope to see you again.” He offered a smile to Keith. Keith returned it, his pink, blue-tinged lips upturning on one side. Shiro, now drenched, bowed and hurried back into the library. He was hot and flustered, no longer cold even though the rain had gone down the neck of his jacket and was now spreading down his back.  
As he sat down and returned to his studying, he sighed in embarrassment. That exchange could certainly have gone a lot better.


	3. The More I See You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro and Keith spark up a conversation, but Shiro is left with many unexplainable and enigmatic questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SGKwVsyY87E  
> I pictured maybe this playing quietly in the background, haha

Later that week, the stormy gray skies were angrily dumping rain down onto umbrellaless Shiro. He held his bookbag to his chest to protect its contents as he ducked from awning to awning on his way to the library. He really should just buy a new umbrella. He needed to write a note somewhere so that he could remember. Stick it to the mirror or something, he thought. And yet, he did not regret giving his umbrella to Keith. Not one bit. Speaking of which… 

It wasn’t a beat later that Shiro saw a figure in the distance, and his heart leapt excitedly. The familiar gakuran, cap, and lanky frame provoked nothing short of joy. Shiro didn’t really understand why seeing him made him so darn happy; it was just a stranger that he’d seen a mere three times before and only shared a few words with. But he couldn’t help himself. 

“Kogane-san!” he called, moving out from under cover and into the rain. Keith turned, surprised, and seemed to spot Shiro. He stopped in place, as if unsure what to do. They inclined their heads in greeting. “How have you been?” Shiro asked. 

“Alright,” Keith responded. “You?” 

“Oh, um, I’ve been doing well.” It was odd how flustered Shiro got around Keith. Like a giddy schoolboy. ‘I missed you,’ he wanted to tell him impulsively, but his logical side blocked those words from coming out and questioned why he even thought of saying them in the first place. What a sappy thing. He smiled, feeling foolish. He was usually more collected than this. 

“Did you do anything this week?” Shiro asked instead. The two of them began walking side-by-side down the road. 

“Not particularly.” Shiro, thinking he was being sly, snuck a glance down at Keith. They made eyes contact, and both parties turned away quickly. Shiro felt his cheeks warm up like embers were beneath his skin. Keith had been staring at him. What had he been thinking as he did? Shiro couldn’t help but wonder. 

“May I hold the umbrella for you?” Shiro offered. Keith looked up at him, cheeks tinged with pink, and nodded. Shiro hauled his bag onto his shoulder and gently took the handle and held up the umbrella so that it sheltered both of them. Part of his right side received rain flowing off of the taut material that formed the umbrella’s bell, but he didn’t mind. Keith was safe from the rain, and Shiro got to be close to him. 

Keith’s shoulder brushed against Shiro’s raised hand, and he shivered. That gakuran was freezing cold, so much so that he could feel it through his windbreaker. 

“Do you need to borrow my jacket?” Shiro asked, concerned. For a second he pictured Keith wearing his jacket, which would surely be far too big for him, and blushed. 

“Huh? No,” Keith replied. “No thank you,” he corrected. They continued on in silence. Shiro wasn’t going to lie to himself, the quiet was uncomfortable. He wanted to talk to Keith, but his mind was all jumbled up and his heart was racing so quickly that he couldn’t find the right words to say. He suddenly realized that he was following Keith like a stray puppy. 

“Where are we going?” Shiro blurted out, louder than he’d intended. Keith came to a halt in his tracks. 

“I-” Keith’s brow furrowed, and he looked up at Shiro in alarm. “I think I’m trying to go home.” His eyes were so worried and confused. 

“Where do you live?” Shiro asked. They were standing facing each other. He reached out to touch Keith’s arm in consolation, but slowly lowered it again. There was little comfort in hard plastic. 

“I- I don’t know. Everything is different. Not where it should be.” Keith held his head and winced. He looked frustrated, distressed. ‘Different?’ Shiro pondered what he could mean by this. 

“Okay, Kogane-san. Why don’t you come home with me and we’ll figure it out? I have some maps of the area and maybe you can warm up a bit too.” 

“No, I have to keep searching!” 

“Kogane-san.” Keith drew his line of sight up and met Shiro’s eyes. “It will be alright. I can help you.” 

“But I’m sure it’s somewhere around here,” Keith insisted. 

“How long have you been looking?” Shiro asked softly. Keith parted his lips, but he seemed to be at a loss for words, perturbed. 

“I don’t know,” he whispered in horror, eyebrows scrunched together. 

“Please, allow me to help you.” 

Keith looked at Shiro warily, but relented and reluctantly nodded. They turned around and headed back the way that they had come. As they walked, Shiro looked down occasionally to simultaneously make sure that Keith was doing alright and to drink in his beautiful features. 

Even though it was currently marred in confusion, his face had a certain edge of determination about it. Shiro got the impression that Keith wasn’t the type to give up easily. He seemed like a perseverer, and it was admirable. To fill the silence, Shiro resorted to small talk. 

“It keeps raining, doesn’t it?” he prompted. 

“It’s always raining,” Keith replied distantly. Shiro glanced over at him, puzzled. It had been sunny off and on all week. But maybe Keith had been using hyperbole when he said that (although he seemed serious), so Shiro refrained from saying anything and changed the subject. 

“What school do you attend?” Shiro questioned. Keith’s uniform truly did not resemble any from the local high schools. 

“Shounagon High School,” Keith told him. Now Shiro was really bewildered. That school wasn’t too far away, and he had seen students that went there many times. He was fairly certain that the males did not wear gakuran, but instead wore blazers and dress shirts. Another enigma. Keith seemed to be filled with them. 

“And what year are you?” Shiro asked, curious. His apartment complex was about a block away. 

“Year Three,” Keith said. ‘Oh, so he’ll graduate high school soon then,’ Shiro thought. 

“So you’re… how many years old?” 

“I am eighteen,” Keith stated. “You?”

“Twenty-five.” He hoped that the age gap did not seem scary to Keith, and smiled with what he prayed would be interpreted as amiableness and would not come off as creepiness. Keith gave a small smile in return, and it felt like a victory to Shiro. 

They reached the apartment building, and Shiro closed the umbrella before they began climbing the sets of stairs together. There were six flights, Shiro’s apartment being on the second-from-the-top floor; it was actually not a drawback in Shiro’s mind. He enjoyed the exercise. They were both a little out of breath by the top. 

“You have good lungs,” Shiro told Keith, laughing through slightly elevated breathing. Keith shrugged nonchalantly, but looked a tad flattered. Or was it embarrassed? Both, Shiro decided. They walked down the hall and to Shiro’s door, Shiro periodically looking over his shoulder to make sure that Keith was still following him. 

He tucked the umbrella under his arm, extracted his key from his pocket and jammed it into the fickle lock. Sometimes it got stuck and wouldn’t let itself be turned or yanked back out without considerable struggle. It thankfully worked, and Shiro turned the knob. 

“Welcome,” he told Keith. “Come on in.” Keith complied and entered the room. “You can sit wherever you want. I’m going to go and find a map for you, alright?” Keith nodded before sitting down hesitantly in Shiro’s desk chair. 

Shiro went into his tiny storage closet, back turned as he kneeled on the ground. He was glad he’d unpacked everything after his relatively recent move following rehabilitation. The map was right where he’d filed it; everything was organized. He pulled out the clear plastic bin it was in and opened up the lid one-handed. He then sifted through the maps and took out one with local streets on it. 

Unfolding it, he stood up. Looking at the map, he stepped forward. He lifted his eyes.

“Kogane-san-” Shiro stopped short, as Keith was nowhere in sight. The door and window were still closed, and Shiro hadn’t heard either of the squeaky things open, with their cheap hinges. All that remained on the chair that Keith had just been inhabiting was a slightly damp patch. Confused, Shiro set the map onto the desk. 

“Kogane-san?” he repeated, almost wondering if he could be hiding somewhere. But Keith did not seem like the type of person to play a practical joke. He opened the door and scanned the dimly-lit cement hallways in both directions. 

“Kogane-san!” he hollered. The sound echoed down the empty, dark flights of stairs. There was no reply. A dusty tan moth fluttered around an unadorned lightbulb attached to the ceiling. Brain addled, Shiro closed the door and locked it (he had neglected to earlier). 

He plopped down on the chair that Keith had vanished from and tried to work out what had just happened. He came up with nothing. He rubbed his tired eyes and went over to the window. He opened it and took in the scent of fresh night air, mingling with the way the city smelled after the rain. Most of the storm clouds had dissipated, and glowing stars winked from their black canvas. 

Shiro continued to wonder what had happened to Keith, but his pondering only served to magnify his forming headache. He carefully rolled out his futon, brushed his teeth, and dived into a deep sleep. His dream was inky black and so murky that he couldn’t see his own hands in front of his face. (In this dream, he still had both.) 

The following morning, Shiro was mostly convinced that the incident with Keith in his apartment had been a strange, vivid dream, or perhaps a stress-induced hallucination. Those were the only logical explanations that he could come up with. Perhaps he’d actually fallen asleep from exhaustion before he’d even left his apartment for the library, and even meeting Keith that night had not actually happened. But no, his jacket was laid on the desk and wet, and the black umbrella was lying on the floor by the closet. 

So what had actually occurred? 

~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, Keith did not appear. It was like he was a vampire and the sunny weather had frightened him away. But where was he? He had been seeking his house, but was he ever able to locate it? Did that conversation even happen at all? Shiro was still worried, imagining that Keith was sleeping out on the streets or something. 

Shiro, shamefully enough, probably did more watching out the window than his actual homework. He couldn’t help it; he desperately wanted to see Keith again. Shiro was being silly and irrational, and he was well aware of that. But when he thought about Keith, his heart felt almost as light as it had been before the accident. 

He’d been in such a depressed state for so long that he seemed to be clinging to this feeling, however fleeting it would probably be, like a Polaroid flash. Most likely, Keith did not reciprocate his sentiments. But Shiro would be placated to just stay quiet about his feelings as long as they could spend time with each other. If he ever even saw him again, anyway. 

Shiro sighed and laid his head on his hard, open textbook. His loose hair pooled over the pages and his eyes, straight and thick. Through the veil of white and black strands, he could see the blurry image of books packed onto shelves. Historical documents bound in hardcover. He saw them every day, their musty aroma permeating the already stuffy atmosphere. 

Shiro closed his eyes, feeling the semi-glossy paper under his cheek. It was almost comforting, in a way. He lied there for a while, the analog clock on the wall ticking loudly away. Despite his logic arguing for him to do otherwise, he drifted off to sleep. 

He was there again. He knew what was coming, but he was powerless to prevent it. He saw the white car swerve like a glass teetering on the edge of a counter. There was a sudden bang like a gunshot, shaking his whole world. Then came the glass tinkling as it shattered on impact and clattered down, in the background ambience. Shiro was thrust through the air, flying and falling. Everything turned black. 

Brief glimpses of medical personnel loomed over him, faces and voices distorted into garbled monsters. Shiro was conscious of the fact that this was a dream. He attempted to open his eyes, to break his chains and escape the nightmare.

He thought that he’d succeeded, sitting up in the library, but looked down to see a crimson, bloody, mangled arm that was nearly unrecognizable as his own in its mutilated state with gleaming white fragmented bone jutting out at unnatural angles. His brain had tricked him and just pulled him into a different dream that was still terrifying. It had devilishly deceived him for a moment into thinking that he was free. 

Shiro cried out in horror, holding his crushed arm out as far away from his body as he could and averting his eyes. He heard blood dripping onto the desk, thick and wet. The pungent, metallic smell filled his nose. 

He jolted awake for real this time, his heart pounding wildly and his breaths coming fast. His chest felt tight, like his rib cage was a boa constrictor. He buried his face in his hands, feeling that unfriendly and foreign plastic against his skin. Still distressed and hyperventilating, and tried not to erupt into tears.


	4. Hikoukigumo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro and Keith go to a market together, and something completely bizarre happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TmjjHbUb4jc  
> This song reminds me a lot of Keith c:

Three days later, Shiro was walking to the library after eating lunch. He had three hours to get some studying in before his afternoon class. He would prefer to eat while studying at the library, but the librarians were sticklers about that. If allowed to eat there, he would undoubtedly clean up after himself. However, he could definitely see their reasoning. Mice nesting in the books, feeding off of crumbs that visitors dropped would not be good. 

There was a light sprinkling of rain, but Shiro had remembered to wear his purple jacket and was doing just fine. The hood was pulled forward so that it shielded his glasses from getting smeared with water. It was just a little bit of rain, not pouring down in a relentless waterfall from the sky like the other day. He didn’t even bother to bring the black umbrella, the one that Keith hadn’t taken when he disappeared. 

Shiro hoped that he was doing alright; he still had not seen him. The moment that he thought that, a lone figure down the road caught his eye. His heart leapt, sparks jumping through his system when he realized who it was. Keith. Relief washed over him in a soothing wave. 

Shiro jogged until he caught up. 

“Kogane-san!” 

Keith looked up at the sound of his name being called, and seemed pleased to see Shiro. Seeing his face again warmed Shiro to the very core. 

“Shirogane-san,” he greeted. Shiro realized that Keith had never addressed him by name before that point. 

“Please, you can call me Takashi or just Shiro.” 

“Shiro,” Keith tried, and it sent Shiro’s heart aflutter like hundreds of butterflies taking flight. He felt blood rush to his cheeks and ears, and hoped that it wasn’t too noticeable. He swallowed.

“Where have you been?” he asked. He hoped to get some answers, because he had a lot of questions. Keith’s expression hardened. He frowned, in deep thought. 

“I don’t know.” He sighed in frustration. “Everything’s fuzzy.” Shiro stopped. 

“Do you need to go and visit a doctor?” he questioned seriously. 

“No, I don’t think so.” Brows furrowed, Keith looked up at the sky. Shiro copied without consciously realizing, and a few cold raindrops bit his face. “The last thing I remember… I was at your apartment, and you were finding a map for me.” 

Shiro’s heart skipped a beat. What? The last thing he could recall was four days ago? Shiro was starting to get a dreadful feeling that somehow, Keith had just dematerialized like something out of a science-fiction novel. 

“And yeah.” Keith gestured aimlessly, conveying his confusion. “Then I found myself walking on this road like always.” 

Shiro was deeply concerned. Did Keith have some sort of amnesia disorder? That could be really dangerous. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked. 

“Yes.” Keith didn’t sound certain.

“Okay…” Shiro replied tentatively. It was all so strange. “Why don’t we go somewhere?” he suggested. “To clear your head. Maybe you’ll remember something.” 

Keith blinked in surprise. 

“Where?” 

“How about the outdoor marketplace?” Shiro proposed, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding eye contact. He would never admit that he’d imagined walking with Keith through the market was something he’d fantasized about several times. They could wonder at all the goods together, and maybe Shiro could buy him something nice. (Plus, now that he thought of it, he should probably buy some food while he was there.) “It’s not too far from here, and I know the way.”

Keith gave Shiro that elusive smile of his. 

“Sure.” 

Someday, Shiro hoped to see a huge, bright beam on Keith’s face; one full of joy. 

They strolled together under the soft glow of the street lamps. Shiro thanked his good sense of direction that he knew how to get to the marketplace. They were kind of going a back way to get there, but it was the fastest route. They went down one-way streets with dandelions blooming bravely, mastering the rough terrain of cracks in the pavement. 

The hubbub of people began to register to Shiro’s ears, like how one can hear the rush of the river long before actually seeing it. They edged through a tight alleyway together and the noise grew in volume. The pair of them emerged, stalls on either side. 

Despite the light shower of rain, there were still quite a few people there. Not nearly as many as when it was sunny outside, not by a long shot, but still a considerable amount of shoppers. They wandered around examining fruits and inspecting seafood. The customers chattered and laughed, while the merchants talked up their items for sale or shouted to grab attention.

“I’ve been here before,” Keith said distantly, staring off at nothing in particular. It was like he was picturing a memory before his eyes, unfocused and far away. “A long time ago…” 

“Yeah, this place has been around for a while. Since the ‘50s. It’s been through a lot too.” 

“Like what?” Keith asked. 

“Oh, earthquakes, floods… Those sorts of things.” They were walking next to each other now that there was more space. “But this market is resilient. After every disaster, the market rebuilds and keeps on going. Just like our country, I suppose.”

Keith nodded. 

“I lived in this area before…” Shiro didn’t elaborate further. “But I recently moved back here for school and it’s interesting to see what’s changed and what’s stayed the same.” Shiro turned to Keith. “Sorry, I’ve just been rambling on.” He laughed.

“It’s alright,” Keith replied. “I don’t mind listening.” 

They drifted from vendor to vendor, stopping to look at live octopi in tanks and shining orange mikan like huge orange gemstones. Shiro watched Keith admiring the various wares, seldom saying anything but with eyes bright with interest and curiosity.

Shiro stopped to buy groceries, mentally checking off his shopping list. He asked Keith a few times if he wanted anything to eat, but he always declined. Shiro got a few clams, mussels, apples, a leek, a yam… He got his paycheck from his day job earlier that week and figured that he could splurge just a little.

He made sure not to get too much food, or it would not fit inside of his small refrigerator or the fruit basket balanced on top of it. He disliked wasting food, so he didn’t buy more than he needed. His meals for the week were all planned out in his head. They were well-balanced to ensure proper nutrition. 

As Shiro purchased an onion to use in a soup, he glanced over at Keith. He was so thin, almost gaunt. Shiro wanted to feed him lots of good, homemade food and put some meat on his bones. They could make sukiyaki together, or… Shiro was getting carried away.

He stashed his onion in one of the grocery sacks he’d gotten, and they moved in the direction of the next booth. Accidentally, their shoulders bumped against each other. Shiro felt an involuntary wave of excitement shoot through his veins like a surge of electrical current. His heart sped up, and Shiro thought about how silly he was being. They’d only touched for a moment.

Keith was freezing! Shiro had noticed before, but even through his jacket he could feel Keith’s drenched gakuran. Shiro wondered how icy his hands were. He wanted to take his hands, so much smaller than the one that he had, and hold them to bring some warmth into them. 

If only Shiro still had both his hands. Then he could hold Keith's hand with one and carry his groceries with the other. But alas, it wasn't so. Shiro wondered what Keith would do if he took his hand. Would he accept the gesture and squeeze back? Or would he snatch his hand away in disgust and never speak to him again? 

Shiro would admit that that was a little extreme of a reaction, but one never knows. Either way, it was a gamble that he wasn't sure he should take yet. He would wait a little longer and observe.

Keith was busy looking at a stand of freshly-cut flowers in a rainbow of vibrant hues. The rain beaded on the petals, shimmering and capturing light like glass. He picked up a creamy-white rose and rolled it between his thumb and index finger contemplatively, a far-off look on his face. 

Keith was as beautiful as the flower, in Shiro's mind. His pale skin matched the color of the rose. Its petals were still delicately unfurling, only half-bloomed. Shiro hoped that Keith would continue to open up to him, just like the rose. He’d only begun to get a glimpse of the real Keith beneath his exterior, and he wanted to know everything about him. His dreams, his family, his interests… There was so much yet unlearned. 

Keith lifted his gaze and must have noticed Shiro's eyes upon him, because he blushed and quickly moved to put the flower back. 

“Wait.” Shiro smiled at him. “Please, let me buy it for you.” 

Keith averted his eyes, looking down at the rose. 

“Alright.” 

Shiro set down his bags and counted out some coins before handing them to the vendor, who tied a scarlet ribbon around the stem of the rose. He tipped his cap, and Shiro gathered up his things and said farewell. 

“Thank you,” Keith mumbled shyly as they continued to walk. 

“Of course! My pleasure.” 

Keith appeared so sweet, holding his white rose like a precious treasure. Shiro's heart swelled up at the sight. The sun was starting to show its face, its rays beaming down in patches into the market. It was so bright and strange after an overcast day. Up above, the clouds were spreading apart like they were cotton balls being gently tugged at. 

The rain had mostly come to a gradual halt; only a few stray droplets fell from the heavens. Shiro stepped into the area between two boothes so that he was out of the way, and Keith followed. He turned to Keith as he started to speak. “Look, the rain is-” He fell short, astonished. 

Keith looked strange, and Shiro couldn’t quite place a finger on it at first. But then... At first he thought that it was a trick of the light, or maybe his eyes were failing him. But as the seconds passed, it became clear that Keith was slowly growing more and more transparent. Shiro could actually see the booth behind Keith through his body. 

“Kogane-san!” Shiro cried in alarm. He automatically reached out his false hand towards him. Keith held his fingers up to examine them and his eyes widened in confusion. But then his face set a bit and he slipped the rose into one of Shiro’s brown paper bags. Helplessly, Shiro tried to touch his arm. His fake fingers passed right through as if Keith was losing mass. 

What on Earth was happening? Panic thudded in Shiro’s chest. What was he supposed to do? Eyes earnest and bewildered, Keith opened his mouth as if to speak.  
Right in front of Shiro, he turned to mist and then dispersed into nothingness. 

Shiro’s eyes widened as he stared at the place where Keith had been standing only moments before, frozen in place. His heart was beating absurdly fast in fear.

“Kogane-san?” he called out, trying to remain level-headed. He swivelled around and whipped his head left and right. Apparently, nobody else had been paying enough attention to notice Keith’s disappearance. Panic clawed within Shiro’s ribcage. What on earth was happening? In a daze, he began retracing their steps. 

“Do you remember the boy that was with me?” Shiro asked the flower vendor, struggling to maintain a calm tone. 

“Yeah, the skinny one?” 

“Yes. Have you seen him?”

“Not since you two passed by here earlier.” 

Shiro sighed and moved to run his right hand over his hair. His mind wasn’t expecting the hard plastic fingers, and they felt shocking and cold against his scalp. He lowered his arm quickly, agitated. 

“Thank you for the help.” He dipped his head and left. Keith… there had to be a connection, somehow, to the rain. Keith seemed to appear with it and leave with it too. But correlation did not necessarily equal causation. Perhaps Keith was an escape artist or something of the sort? Was this an elaborate prank? Even in his nervous state, Shiro knew that that was far-fetched. But he was just grasping at straws to try and come up with any logical explanation at all. 

Shiro wondered if he should call the police. The story sounded ridiculous, though. Someone just vanishing out of nowhere? They’d call him crazy. 

Shiro stepped into the alleyway that he had emerged from with Keith earlier. He leaned back against the mossy brick wall, attempting to regulate his breathing. What should he do? He looked down and noticed that his hand was trembling. He looked up, the back of his head brushing against the rough red brick, he tried his best to pull himself together. 

With a shaky breath, Shiro shifted his weight back onto his feet and began the walk back to his apartment. The whole way there, he barely registered his surroundings. His jumbled thoughts broke apart and pieced together in different arrangements. None of them made any meaningful sense; they were a cacophony of various ideas and emotions. They gripped at his body like the cruel arms of a kraken and refused to release him.


	5. While My Guitar Gently Weeps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro suffers horrific nightmares. He longs to see Keith, but there is an uncharacteristic dry spell and they are kept apart. When they finally do meet again, both of them open up more to each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VJDJs9dumZI  
> This song is just so beautiful and poignant.

Shiro found that his eyes had once again drifted over to the small, chipped vase on his desk. The rose it contained leered its pale face at him, appearing innocuous and beautiful but containing disturbing association. It served as a stark reminder of how Keith had simply disappeared. The rose also made him wonder… 

What had Keith meant by giving it back to him? Had it been a sign that he knew about Shiro’s feelings, but couldn’t accept them? Shiro just didn’t know, and his speculation was driving him crazy. The stress of it all was amplifying his usual nightmares as well as adding new, terrible ones. 

Shiro dreamt of holding Keith in his arms so tenderly and lovingly, leaning their heads against each other. Right there, he’d watch helplessly as Keith’s flesh melted off of his body like ice cream in a horrific vision until all he was left with was a grimacing skeleton whose eyes were sinking inwards. Those beautiful brown eyes that haunted Shiro day and night. 

Shiro would wake up in a cold sweat and throw off the covers, heart trying to burst from his ribcage. Rolls of nausea would roll over him like ocean swells when a ship passes by. He would close his eyes and try to focus on calming his sporadic breathing. That vivid nightmare didn’t lose its edge or horror with repetition, even after Shiro experienced it three or four times. 

He kept hoping that it would rain, but it hadn’t since that day at the marketplace. The not knowing what he should or should not do was bothering him deeply. He found himself distracted and unfocused during class, burning food, and making calculation errors at his arubaito as a grocery cashier. 

It was frustrating for his grip on his his mind to be weaker, but he had nobody to turn to. He was still new to his school and job, and while he was getting to know people he wasn’t yet close enough with anybody to disclose what had happened. 

“So, there is this guy that I’m interested in, and he seems to come and go with the rain. I don’t know if he likes me back or if it’s all in my head, and I fear that I might be having a psychotic breakdown.” No way in hell. Even if he omitted all of the unexplained supernatural parts of the story, men liking other men in a romantic way wasn’t something that people talked about. Shiro had met other people like him before, and had even befriended them. Some of them, if they had one, lived together with their partners. However, a staggeringly sad amount of them married women (who were usually nice enough) to conform to a collectivist society. 

Shiro buried his face in his arm and sighed, drumming his fingers against the cheap wood that his desk was constructed of. He rested there for a while, staring at the off-white plaster wall and wondering if it had come to be that color through age or if that was the original paint shade they had chosen to use. 

With yet another sigh (he seemed to be full of them), Shiro stood and began clearing his dishes from the dinner he had eaten hours prior. He hated being so disorganized. He carefully washed his pan, plate, and fork in the tiny sink, which was very difficult with only one hand, and then dried them off. He had lost too many good dish-soldiers from them slipping from the grasp of his left hand and shattering. 

Shiro then began getting ready for bed. It was the same exact dull routine that he performed everyday. As he braided his hair and brushed his teeth drowsily, a familiar and ominous sense of dread settled into his bones. His ribs felt tight from anxiety. He tried to ignore it, but it wouldn’t leave him. He stretched out on his futon, lying on his back. His arm was draped over his stomach, and as he stared up at the ceiling he gave a rueful smile and prepared himself. 

He was afraid to fall asleep and encounter whatever nightmares awaited him. It was silly, really; a grown man afraid of dreams. But they felt so incredibly real. They lingered in the back of his head all day, the sunlight making them a little less frightening. They shrunk back and stuck to the shadows. He didn’t want to go back to that mental prison that he couldn’t seem to wake up from. 

However, Shiro knew first-hand how important sleep was, and he was going to try and sleep even if the end result would be nightmares. When he finally drifted off, his sleep was as restless as he had feared and expected. He kept waking up, and, barely conscious of his surroundings, would readjust his position or move his blanket. He kept feeling like something nagging him. Like he was supposed to be doing something else besides lying there. 

Shiro was too somnolent and addled to figure it out, so his brain attempted to fill in the gaps and came up with solutions to the mysterious thing that was bothering him. But nothing was quite right and it only gave him confusion and a massive, crushing headache. He couldn’t remember any of the individual dreams, only distorted glimpses of them that made even less sense in the morning than they did at the time. 

The only dream that Shiro could recall (and wished he couldn’t) was his final dream. Flitting in and out of states of awareness, he was drowning. Keith was far-off, but he could still see him. His eyes were closed, and his shoulders and slumped-forward head stuck out above the sludge that they two of them were submerged in. 

Shiro desperately tried to swim over to him with no success. The black muck was as thick as molasses, and trapped him like tar. As terror rolled over him, he kicked and tried to stroke with his arm in a panic. Keith was slowly sinking beneath the muddy substance they were ensnared in. His chin dipped below the surface, followed by his lips and nose. Shiro yelled and cried and kept struggling to reach him--to save him-- but it was all in vain and he watched as the top of Keith’s head disappeared under the surface. He woke up with a jolt. 

Breathing heavily and sticky with sweat, he slowly realized that none of that had actually occurred. His eyes stung with tears. Deciding that he was done suffering, he grabbed his glasses and shakily stood. He padded over to the window, sliding on his eyewear on the way. He blinked. The glass panes had water droplets clinging to them. 

Shiro thrust open the window to see everything damp from fresh rain and sparkling in the morning sun like a billion jewels. His heart dropped like a rock to his stomach, and he sunk down into his chair. He felt like sobbing and screaming. That was what had been tugging at him all night. It had finally rained, and he’d missed his chance to see if Keith appeared. 

Frustrated with himself and tears burning in his eyes, Shiro started to get ready for his day. He eventually calmed down a bit with the reminder that it would always rain again. Sighing, he strapped on his prosthetic arm. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Japan was having an uncharacteristic dry spell, and the weather people were all chattering about it on the television and radio with excitement in their eyes. A warmer-than-usual autumn. Shiro did not mirror their feelings. He hadn’t seen Keith at all on his regular walks to the library, the sun hanging in the sky mocking his plight and the clouds teasing him before drifting off to rain somewhere else. If only he could see Keith again… 

Usually such a dutiful student, Shiro was having trouble keeping his eyes open in class out of sleep deprivation. He was taking dutiful notes as usual, but the words were beginning to turn into nonsense written in sluggish penmanship.

Suddenly Shiro shot up, wide-awake. Heart pounding, he looked out the window to see the wave of rain that he’d heard sweeping towards them. It was like a heavy sheet, relentlessly pummeling the land. It overtook the building and suddenly the sound of it smacking against the roof reached his ears. 

Before he could properly think through his actions, Shiro stood. He felt dozens of eyes fixate onto him. The professor stopped mid-sentence, chalk poised centimeters from the blackboard. Shiro had brought attention to himself and disrupted the lesson. It was highly improprietous. But he couldn’t dwell on that now. 

“I’m so sorry, please excuse me,” he said, a bit breathlessly, and gave a deep bow. He grabbed his bag, swung it over his shoulder, and quickly walked towards the exit. He carefully wove around students and their belongings on the way. Everyone’s gazes followed him. As soon as he was out of the door, he broke out into a jog down the hall and went down the stairs two at a time. 

Shiro burst through the doors and out into the pouring rain. It was dumping down in torrents, like the sky had been storing it up and was releasing it all at once. He didn’t have his jacket or umbrella with him because the forecast had predicted clear skies, and so he was in his white button-down shirt and black slacks. 

Even though the thick drops smarted where they struck against his skin, he pressed on. He ran as fast as his legs could manage and his lungs and heart would put up with, praying that the rain wouldn’t suddenly cease. The rain persisted, and so did Shiro. He wasn’t about to slow down after waiting for so long. There were times when one had to patient, but that time was over. This opportunity was not going to slip through his fingers. 

Shiro rounded the corner onto the street where he usually saw Keith. Frantically, his eyes scanned left to right. His rain-smeared glasses made it difficult to see anything clearly, so he took them off and tucked them into his pocket. He squinted, pushing drenched loose hair behind his ear in vain as he continued forward desperately. The running and merciless rain had undone his braid. The elastic was surely lying in a puddle somewhere. 

Hopelessness clenched in Shiro’s chest and stomach. He hadn’t spotted Keith yet. But he wouldn’t give up. He was going to keep searching, even if the dense rain falling combined with his poor vision made it difficult to see ten feet in front of him. 

Shiro was near to the library, he realized, and as he drew closer a figure standing near it came into focus. 

“Kogane-san?” he called out. Did the person turn to look at him? It was hard to tell. He ducked under the awning and blinked away some of the water streaming down his face. 

“Shiro?” 

Shiro felt like his heart was melting and exploding at the same time. Keith was finally here, in front of him, after all of that time. Keith’s eyes were wide in surprise, but it quickly morphed to hopeful confusion. 

“I thought that you’d… After what happened…” 

“I’m not giving up on you,” Shiro told him firmly. He meant it with every fiber of his being. Keith gave him a smile; a genuine, beautiful one. His eyes glimmered softly in the muted sunlight coming from behind the clouds being refracted a billion times by the rain. Shiro wished to pull him close, protect him, and keep him near forever. He realized, cheeks flushing slightly, what a spectacle he must be. Dripping wet, clothes bedraggled, soaked and tangled hair, dark shadows ringing his eyes like bad makeup… 

“Are you alright?” Shiro asked seriously, placing his hand on Keith’s shoulder. 

“I… I’m not sure,” Keith admitted. “How long has passed?” he asked, pitch climbing barely noticeably in fear. Shiro sighed and met Keith’s eyes. 

“It’s been about a month and a half since I’ve seen you.”

Keith stepped back, blinking. 

“What?” His eyebrows were pressed together. “How is that possible?” 

Shiro, moving slowly as to not cause alarm, took Keith’s frigid wrist. He held him loosely so that he could shake himself free if he wanted to. 

“Why don’t we talk this out?” Shiro suggested. 

Keith hesitated for a moment, but then nodded. Shiro didn’t want to go all the way back to his apartment out of fear of a repeat of what happened last time. He was going to take advantage of the rain as long as he could. He led Keith to a bench underneath an overhang, and they sat down beside each other. Keith looked rigid, as if he was prepared to run off at any moment. 

“Kogane-san… What do you remember? Before today?” 

Keith’s lips were pressed into a line, his brows still furrowed and his forehead wrinkled. 

“It was night, and there was a light rain…” he trailed off. 

“That was a few weeks ago,” Shiro told him gently. He crossed his arm over and tentatively placed it on Keith’s knee (Keith was sitting to his right). 

“What? How is that possible?” Keith asked incredulously. 

“I’m not sure. But we’ll find out.” Shiro paused. He wanted to break his hypothesis to Keith gently. “It seems like you appear whenever it’s raining, and then disappear when the weather changes.” Shiro glanced at Keith to make sure he was alright before continuing. "Think hard. Can you recall a time before it was always raining for you?” 

Keith’s jaw was clenched, and his eyes were unfocused. His hands were balled into fists, nails pressed into his skin. 

“I… I was on my way home. And then the water came.” 

“Water?” Shiro prompted. 

“This huge wall of water came and I was sucked under. I tried to swim, but it was way too strong.”

“A flood, then?” 

Keith nodded. 

“And ever since then I wake up and I’m standing on this damn street in the rain. It makes no sense!” Keith gestured when he exclaimed the last part. 

“Hmm… Kogane-san, what year was it? When it flooded?” Shiro asked with a cold sense of foreboding. 

“I… I don’t know. It’s been so long…” Keith stood up and started pacing back and forth. He rubbed just above the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut. He growled in annoyance. “I want to remember, but my memory is full of holes.” He looked on the verge of bursting into angry tears. “How could I not know the year? What the fuck is wrong with me?” 

“Kogane-san… We’ll figure this out. What about before the flood?” 

“I lived with my father…” His eyes grew distant, and then he shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about what happened.” 

“That’s okay.” 

Keith plopped back down next to Shiro again and kicked a pebble. 

“Am I cursed? Did I do something terrible, and now it’s my fate to mindlessly wander the same streets over and over again?” 

“I’m sure that’s not the reason,” Shiro reassured. “You don’t deserve this.” 

Keith stared at the ground, back hunched over and a hand propping up his head by the cheek. 

“Before you… I was barely conscious of what was going on around me. I was just trudging in the rain like a mindless zombie. But you… I don’t know how to explain it right, but you helped me to start being more aware. Nobody really tried to talk to me before.” Keith covered his eyes. “Ugh, that sounds so stupid!” 

“It’s not.” 

Keith peeked up through his fingers. 

“I’m always glad to see you,” Shiro continued. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Keith admitted. Shiro studied his face. With those bluish lips and pale skin he almost looked… “Shiro!” Keith said all of the sudden. “I just noticed, your hair, it’s-” he tried to articulate with his hands. 

“Huh? What’s the matter?” 

“Call me crazy, but I think it’s more white than the last time we met.” 

Shiro hadn’t really looked in the mirror lately. Had all this stress really given him more white hair? 

“I didn’t know.” Shiro laughed nervously and fiddled with a lock of hair. Strange. “It’s gotten so long, maybe I should-” 

“No!” Keith blurted out. He realized what he’d done and averted his eyes. “I mean, do what you want. I just…” he mumbled something under his breath. Shiro didn’t hear it all, but he got the gist. The long hair would stay, then. He smiled to himself. His frustration was endearing. 

“Alright.” 

Pink tinged Keith’s cheeks. 

“What about you?” he asked, clearly eager to change the subject. 

“What about me?” Shiro replied. 

“What’s your story?” 

A lump formed in Shiro’s throat like a rock had gotten caught there. He hesitated, but- he trusted Keith. Maybe opening up to him would help him open up more too. 

“Well, I’m going to college right now. Still an undergraduate.” 

“But didn’t you say that you’re twenty-five?” Keith asked. 

“Well…” Shiro sighed. “I started later than most because I took some years off to work and earn money to pay for school. And then, once I did start…” Shiro started rubbing his prosthetic without making the conscious decision to do so. Keith was watching him intently with those glittering jewel eyes. “Well...” 

Keith, seeming to sense that something was wrong, awkwardly patted Shiro’s knee with an icy cold hand. 

“You don’t have to…” he trailed off. 

“No, it’s fine.” Shiro smiled firmly. “At the beginning of my second year in college, I was involved in a car accident,” he disclosed. “That’s how I ended up with this.” He raised and waved his prosthetic arm. Keith took the fake hand carefully in his own and examined it. At least Keith wouldn’t be able to feel how fast Shiro’s heart was beating through the plastic. 

“I’m sorry, Shiro.” Keith released the hand. Shiro strived to not let it show how much he was still  
bothered by the trauma that he’d endured. 

“It’s alright.” Shiro tried (and failed) to say it nonchalantly. His voice wobbled.

Keith frowned slightly. Without warning, he leaned against Shiro. Because they were both already soaked with water, Keith being perpetually dripping wet wasn’t an issue. Shiro blushed warm, feeling blood in his ears and whole face. 

“Wha-what are you doing?” he asked. He looked down at Keith’s face to see him avoiding eye contact. There was a pregnant pause. Then: 

“It’s not alright.” 

“Hm?” Shiro asked, nervousness seeping into his tone. 

“I know it’s not.” 

He opened his mouth to reply, but he had nothing to retort. It wasn’t okay. They rested there together, not feeling the need to say anything. Keith’s head was a comforting weight on Shiro’s shoulder, calming some of his inner troubles. 

The rain began to thin out, and beside him Keith started to lose mass. Shiro had thought that he was prepared for this inevitability, but he realized that he most definitely was not. Keith became aware of what was happening, and shot up to his feet. 

“Shiro!” 

“Kogane-san,” Shiro echoed. He stood as well, and tried to hold Keith’s upper arm. His hand passed right through. “We’ll figure this out, I promise,” Shiro told him, feeling desperate. 

“Thank you,” Keith said simply, his expressive eyes conveying a gratitude so deep that words could not properly capture it. The rain vanished, and so did he. 

Shiro’s heart plummeted. He waited for a bit in case he reappeared, but to his disappointment it didn’t happen. Downtrodden, he headed off in the direction of his apartment to change into some dry clothes.


	6. Kimi wo Nosete

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro carefully plans so that he and Keith can go and watch Tenkū no Shiro Laputa (Castle in the Sky) together in theaters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=op8I15bTmFc  
> Sometimes this makes me tear up ;~;

Shiro began to dutifully watch the weather forecast so that he could be prepared if it was likely to rain. He didn’t want to miss out on any chance to see Keith. 

He found it difficult balancing school, his arubaito, and researching Keith’s predicament, but he somehow managed it by utilizing his time efficiently—driven by his burning desire to help Keith. He wanted to free him from waterlogged prison, slave to the whim of the weather.

Shiro read books on curses, on strange phenomena, even on yokai. But nothing he found seemed very helpful or applicable to Keith’s situation. The librarians were getting tired of Shiro asking questions about books on odd subject matters. 

One of the older librarians actually took him aside and, in a muted whisper, asked him if he was part of a dark cult. Shiro tried to reassure her that he hadn’t joined a cult, nor even entertained the possibility. She nodded, but he still felt that she was suspicious. A couple times he caught her staring at him with squinted eyes while she was re-shelving books. That usually made him smile to himself. 

After hours and hours of poring over texts, he was sure he could tell someone in detail about the history of witchcraft in pop culture or how a Shinto priest exorcises a spirit, but felt no closer to the answers he truly desired. He felt like he was missing something. It was as if he had a major clue hidden right in front of him, but just couldn’t seem to grasp it. 

It felt so strange, being a rational and scientific individual and now spending time flipping through books about hexing your enemies. Before Shiro met Keith, he would have dismissed it all as blatant fiction. But after what he’d seen happen to Keith, anything seemed possible. And the more he read, the more options popped out of the woodwork. 

When all of Shiro’s research on the supernatural yielded inconclusive results, he started looking into floods. After all, the last thing that Keith remembered was being swept up by a flood. He read articles in the news on floods that had happened in recent years, books on the behavior of flash floods and tsunamis, and transcribed interviews of survivors of floods. 

But it all seemed to lead nowhere. 

As the days turned into weeks, Shiro kept persevering. The temporary dry spell lifted, and Shiro tried to meet with Keith whenever possible. It was difficult to plan anything ahead of time when the weather predictions were subject to change. Shiro had many date ideas- well, he didn’t know if they counted as dates, but it was hard to be sure if they would have enough time before the rain stopped. 

Everyone had been buzzing for months about a new animated movie called Tenkū no Shiro Laputa. It was praised by critics for its story and graphics. Even if it was out on VHS, Shiro didn’t own a television or VTR and so he wouldn’t be able to watch it at home anyways. That didn’t stop him from really wanting to watch it with Keith. 

In order to do so successfully, he would have to carefully make plans so that it would be raining throughout the entire duration of the film, which had a long running time. 

The next time that he saw Keith, Shiro asked him if he’d like to go and see Laputa with him. He’d been scared that he was crossing a line, that Keith would somehow discern that Shiro liked him in more than a friend kind of way and say no. It was probably just his anxiety getting the best of him. He’d become overly cautious due to past experiences. On the contrary to his worst fears, Keith seemed to be doing his best to hide his excitement. 

“I’d like that,” he admitted. “I don’t remember ever going to a theater before.” 

The pair of them were walking side-by-side, the rising sun peeking from behind clouds as it began its daily ascent in the sky. It’s warmth threatened to dry up the rain. 

Shiro smiled, ecstatic. 

“It’s settled, then.” 

They stopped and looked off to the horizon, where the sun’s rays illuminated the angelic clouds, melting them from warm gold to pink to cool lilac. It looked like an idyllic scene from a postcard or magazine. 

“I’m sorry that I haven’t figured out why this is happening to you,” Shiro said softly. To his surprise, he felt Keith take his hand and squeeze it. Shiro pulled his gaze from the heavens and it landed on something much more seraphic. 

Keith’s dark eyes were softened by the reflection of the pastel sunrise. He smiled ever so tenderly, and Shiro’s heart raced. No words were necessary. The sun banished away the clouds, and Keith closed his eyes as the rain petered out. Shiro was left making his way alone, his hand feeling empty. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Shiro nervously studied his reflection in the mirror. He didn’t know why he was so worried. If all went according to plan, he was just going to see a movie. With a friend. Nothing to get all worked up over. He touched the bridge of his nose, wishing that his scar didn’t stand out so much. The raised, jagged flesh was pinker and shinier than the rest of his skin. 

Carefully, Shiro combed through his hair. It was getting longer, almost to his shoulder blades now. Keith had been right. It was getting whiter. Instead of just a streak, his whole bangs were losing color. He gave a wry smile. Soon, all of his hair would be white. Ojii-san Shiro. 

He braided his hair and then adjusted the collar of his new jean jacket. (He’d found it on sale at a good price.) Briefly, he wondered whether or not to do up the snap buttons. He settled on wearing it open, his brightly-colored striped t-shirt on display underneath. What if he brought different clothes for Keith that weren’t soaking wet? No, that would probably be insulting. Plus, all of Shiro’s clothes would be practically falling off of him. 

Shiro strapped on his prosthetic and gave himself one last look-over. Hopefully it would be sufficient. With a determined air about him, he pocketed his wallet, grabbed the umbrella, marched out the door and then locked it. 

On the way, he wondered what Keith thought about all of this. Did it even cross his mind to consider it as a date? Or just two pals hanging out? Shiro sighed. If he liked women then this wouldn’t be so difficult. The sky above was overcast, and Shiro knew that sunset was soon. 

When Shiro reached the place where Keith normally appeared, he ducked underneath an overhang to wait. He checked his watch. According to the weather forecast, the rain would start any minute. There was a theater not too far away, and he’d gone the day before to check the showtimes. The rain was slated to continue the rest of the day and through the night, so they’d definitely have enough time to see the whole film if the prediction was accurate. 

Shiro nervously tapped his foot in anticipation, leaning back against the wall. He fiddled with his glasses. Should he have worn them? No, no, it would probably be okay. 

Shiro was just thinking that it would have been smart to bring a book along when he heard a plip, plip on the taut fabric above him. He shot upright, off of the wall, and looked around. His heart was fluttering nearly in rhythm with the raindrops. Water fell faster, and before Shiro’s eyes Keith flickered into existence like a fire. 

“Kogane-san!” Shiro called out. Keith turned. When his eyes landed on Shiro, they appeared to light up.

“Shiro!”

He quickly walked over, and Shiro opened the black umbrella with a flourish. Or rather, he wished it had been with a flourish. Gracefully unfurling an umbrella was quite the undertaking when one had a single hand. He held it up so that they were both sheltered, then stepped out into the open. 

“Ready?” he asked with a smile. 

“Yes,” Keith replied.

Shiro thanked his good internal compass that he knew which turns to take on the winding maze of streets. Keith was standing on his right, and he could occasionally feel his dead plastic hand bumping limply against Keith’s arm. 

“Have you seen a movie before?” Shiro asked. “You said you’d never been to a theater, but have you ever watched a film?” 

Keith didn’t reply right away, and the only thing to punctuate the silence was their footsteps in the ever-growing puddles. 

“We had a tv. My dad and I.” Keith began, talking slowly as if he was trying to recall the details. He said “tv” instead of the Japanese word for television, “terebi.” “We watched programs on there.” 

“So you didn’t have a VTR?” Shiro asked. “I don’t have one either. Don’t have a tv to hook up to it anyways.” He laughed, thinking that he’d spoken too much. 

“VTR…?” Keith questioned. 

“A video tape recorder. You know, you put in a tape and then it plays for you?” 

“I’ve never heard of that,” Keith replied, puzzled. 

How strange. VTRs were growing in popularity and were becoming commonplace. Now, someone could watch all of their favorite movies whenever they wanted. Technological advancements were amazing. 

“That’s alright, I’m sure that lots of people haven’t,” Shiro assured. Keith still looked confused, brows furrowed. 

A prolonged wordless period followed. Shiro desperately searched for something to say, but came up blank. He wanted to have a conversation, but he didn’t know what to talk about. But Keith surprised him. 

“What’s this movie about, anyways?” Keith asked, eyes curious. 

“From what I read in the paper, it’s about two children that discover a floating civilization in the clouds,” Shiro explained. “I heard there’s pirates too. And robots.” He laughed. “Sorry, I don’t think I’m doing it justice.” He gave an apologetic smile. “From the promotional art, there’s lots of flying ships too,” he added. 

“Flying ships?” Keith breathed. “Like, airplanes?” 

“They’re similar. I think it’s better for you to just see than for me to try and explain.” 

They rounded a corner, and Shiro could see the lights of the theater and the large movie posters above the entrance. They were starting to get into the more tightly-packed district, with busier streets. Neon signs flashed everywhere, and people rushed along as they evaded the rain. Shiro watched Keith carefully observe his surroundings. He seemed a tad overwhelmed, and so Shiro tried to distract him. 

“See, that’s the one,” Shiro said when they were closer to the theater. “The poster on the right.” The image depicted a girl floating in the air, her eyes closed and a glowing light emanating from the pendant she was wearing. In the background, a boy approached with an astonished look on his face. 

Keith’s eyes were bright as he looked at the poster from under the brim of his hat. He stared up at the art, not saying a word. He was still walking, and stumbled a bit. It appeared to snap him back into reality. 

“We’re here,” Shiro remarked. They stopped under the overhang in front of the theater and Keith took the umbrella from Shiro. He shook it off and then closed it. Both of them wiped their feet on the mat and then entered the building. Shiro went over and bought their tickets (there happened to be a deal that day, which was a welcome coincidence). 

Shiro led Keith to the concession stand and asked if he wanted anything, but he shook his head “no.” 

“Are you sure?” Shiro asked. “I don’t mind.” 

“I’m sure,” Keith said. 

“Alright then.” Shiro smiled. “Let’s go.” The theater wasn’t very large, With just three rooms that had projectors. Shiro led Keith into the first one and they took their seats. Keith sat to Shiro’s left this time, and Shiro blushed at the thought that Keith was on the same side as his real hand. That maybe they could- He shook his head. No. He had to stop that. 

Because they had gotten there a little early, they had good spots near the middle. The advertisements were playing; they were full of celebrities, soft light, and glowing skin. The people felt almost ethereal as they whirled around and endorsed products. Shiro was relieved when the advertisements ended and the trailers started. 

Most of the trailers were for movies aimed at kids, and Shiro began to worry about his choice in the film they were seeing. Would Keith think that it was too childish? But then the film began and he decided that there was no sense worrying about it now. 

The first scene opened on a cloudy night sky. There was a pirate airship, with a skull painted on the side. Pirates left their own craft on bug-like flying vehicles and boarded a giant airship. The pirates fought their way past the crew in quick, smooth actions. They were on a mission; for what, Shiro didn’t yet know. 

He looked over to see Keith transfixed by what he was seeing. His eyes followed every movement. The story began to unfold: a mysterious girl with a blue crystal pendant was quickly trying to escape both her captors and the pirates. Right before her door was broken down, she climbed out the window. She started shifting slowly along the side of the ship, and it didn’t take long for the pirates to discover where she’d gone. They reached for her, while she struggled to keep her grip on the ridges of the ship. Her feet slipped out from under her, and she screamed as she hurtled down. 

Shiro felt his heart dive to his stomach, and Keith gasped beside him. The girl vanished within the soft clouds, and then the opening credits began. Marvelous, strange machines with various purposes graced the screen. Many of them were flying. Already wrapped up in the world, Shiro wondered what it would be like to be on one of those aircrafts and looking down at the landscape below from above the clouds. 

The music swelled, and the girl was shown still falling head-first towards the ground, her eyes closed. Her stone suddenly emitted a burst of glowing blue light and then the girl’s body gently levelled out. Her descent was slowed and she gently floated down towards the earth far beneath her, where the lights of a town were twinkling. 

Pazu, a friendly boy who worked in a mining town, was introduced. He saw the girl falling from the sky, and ran to catch her in his arms and carry her to safety. As the story progressed, Shiro began to see a lot of Keith in Pazu. Their determined natures in particular was a large similarity. Shiro smiled to himself. He and Keith didn’t exchange many words throughout Laputa, but that would have been a distraction and neither of them wanted to miss a moment. 

Pazu and the girl, Sheeta, grew very close as the film progressed and protected each other. Shiro admired their relationship and deep bond. He hoped to someday have that level of trust and understanding with another person. Maybe one day with… He glanced over at Keith before chastising himself. He was being foolish again. 

The score and animation of Laputa were breathtaking. It was obvious how much skill and effort had gone into its creation. One could feel what the characters were feeling due to the realistic ways that they interacted with their environments, as well as their emotive expressions. 

Shiro enjoyed all of the twists and turns in the story as the protagonists sought after the legendary city of Laputa that floated up in the clouds. When Sheeta and Pazu made it there and landed, the fog surrounding them cleared to reveal lush green grass dotted with flowers that swayed in the wind, as well as ruins overgrown with foliage. 

The music swelled as Pazu and Sheeta looked upon the place they had worked tirelessly to get to, and Shiro felt the scene tug at his heart. His eyes felt wet, and he wasn’t entirely sure why. Laputa carried such a wondrous and beautiful feeling, with its grand monuments and abandoned buildings now covered with exotic plants and inhabited by unique creatures. Underneath the tone of awe, there was a subtly eerie air about Laputa. Shiro pondered on what had happened to this once grand civilization. 

As the story drew closer to its climax, Pazu was climbing up crumbling blocks, nothing between him and a watery grave in the ocean miles below. One of the stone bricks broke off, and Pazu scrambled for a hold to pull himself up. Keith suddenly grabbed Shiro’s arm. Shiro looked down to see him totally engrossed in the action. Every time Pazu came close to plummeting to his death, Keith squeezed tighter. Shiro thought it was sweet how into the story he was getting, and how much he cared about the well-being of the characters. 

The film ended with Laputa floating away, safe at last from those that would employ its weapons technology for their own nefarious designs. Pazu and Sheeta flew away together on a small glider, taking in one last look at Laputa. 

A song began, gorgeous and with the same melody that had been echoed throughout the movie. The credits started to roll. Instead of getting up to leave, Shiro and Keith remained and listened to the music. The movie had left Shiro with a feeling that he couldn’t quite describe. It was silly, but he felt like this movie was going to be very important for decades to come, and he had somehow been a part of its legacy simply by seeing it. There was a sort of longing in his chest- he wasn’t sure what exactly for. There was an ache that reminded him of simpler times and home. Back before he had to worry about nightmares and flashbacks and not having his right hand. 

Laputa was a masterpiece. Shiro was sure of that. Seeing all of the names on the screen belonging to all of the people that had contributed amazed him. And he’d gotten the opportunity to share this experience with Keith. 

The credits ended, and the lights slowly flickered on. Shiro blinked, his eyes adjusting. It was like being transported back into reality. He turned to Keith, his heart feeling full. Keith released his arm (to which he had clung to for the rest of the film) and vigorously wiped his cheeks. It didn’t do much due to his sleeves still being wet. 

Shiro checked to make sure that they had everything, and they left together. Stepping outside and seeing the still-heavy rainfall reminded Shiro of Keith’s plight like a weight sinking onto his shoulders. While they had been swept up in the world of Laputa, it seemed that that Keith’s plight had been pushed to the back of Shiro’s mind. It was now back to the forefront of his concerns. 

They had been so lucky that the rain hadn’t stopped while they were watching Laputa. He wasn’t about to leave Keith back on that empty street in the dark.

“Do you want to come back to my apartment with me?” he asked tentatively. 

“I’d like that,” Keith replied. He opened up the umbrella and held it up over the two of them. They walked out into the rain, Shiro guiding them in the correct direction. 

“Thank you,” Keith said quietly. 

“Of course! I’m glad I could spend time with you. Did you like the movie?” 

Keith nodded. 

“It was like… Nothing I’d ever seen before.” 

Shiro smiled. 

“I feel the same way.” The streetlights were on now, casting golden light over keith and making him look as if he was glowing. Keith looked like he was on the verge of saying something. He took a breath. 

“I know this sounds stupid, but Sheeta reminded me of you.” He averted his eyes. “Sheeta has been through a lot, but she’s so kind and intelligent…” He trailed off. Shiro’s heart skipped a beat, and he laughed. “See, I told you it was stupid!” Keith exclaimed. 

“It’s not that, it’s just- I was thinking that you’re like Pazu. You have the same determination.” 

Keith met Shiro’s eyes. 

“Thanks,” he said. He sounded a little surprised. Shiro placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“I mean it.” 

Keith’s lips turned up at the corners, and the smile reached his eyes. 

Out of nowhere, Shiro’s vision started spinning and he stumbled.


	7. Yume no Tsuzuki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro invites Keith back to his apartment. While playing with Shiro's long hair, Keith reveals some information about his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SSagv3uGijM  
> Such a catchy song! The lyrics remind me of a sleepy Shiro.

“Shiro! Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine, I just-” Shiro almost fell over. He felt incredibly dizzy, and black spots swarmed in front of his vision. Determined, Keith pulled one of Shiro’s arms over his own thin shoulders. He still awkwardly held the umbrella with his other hand. Shiro leaned against him, taking care not to hurt him or tip him over. 

Shiro gave instructions on which way to go. Without Keith’s support, he probably would have fallen over. He looked over at Keith a few times to see his face determined, but with worry lines. He wanted to have conversation, but he was starting to feel nauseous and didn’t think that it would be a good idea to open his mouth. 

They reached Shiro’s apartment complex, and Keith guided Shiro to lean against the concrete wall so that he could close the umbrella. After tucking it under his arm, he returned to Shiro. Going up all of those stairs proved difficult. Shiro was afraid he would fall with every step he took, and he was grateful for Keith’s help. He wished that he wasn’t so bulky; he felt like a sack of yamaimo and it made him self-conscious. 

At last, they reached the final stretch to Shiro’s apartment. Every foot they travelled felt like it took a year. They world around Shiro was spinning, and it still did when he squeezed his eyes shut. When they finally arrived at the door, Shiro let go of Keith so that he could dig his key out of his pocket and attempt to thrust it into the lock. 

To his despair, once he inserted the key, it decided it would be a great time to jam. With his vertigo too extreme for his depth perception to function properly, Shiro futilely tried to turn the key, but his efforts were fruitless. Fortunately, Keith swooped in to the rescue. With a swift motion, he jerked the key to the right with a click and managed to get the knob to turn. 

Keith opened the door, turned on the light, and carefully led Shiro into the room. He helped him sit down on a chair and made sure that he was situated alright before placing the umbrella into the corner and closing and locking the door. 

Keith began, almost frantically, flipping through Shiro’s cupboards.

“What are you doing?” Shiro asked, tired but amused. He smiled as he came to the full realization that Keith really did care for him. It rose inside of him like a flame, slowly warming him up.

“I’m looking for a cup, what do you think I’m doing?” he exclaimed. Shiro blinked, a bit taken aback at his sudden outburst. Keith turned his head to look over his shoulder and must have seen Shiro’s expression because he paused in his search. 

“I’m sorry,” he said hastily yet sincerely. “I’m just-” He moved to face the cupboards again, and Shiro had a feeling that he was avoiding eye contact. “I’m just worried, is all.” 

“On the right.” Shiro sighed and closed his eyes, rubbing his temple. The dizziness was starting to ebb away, but he was feeling feverish. He heard running water and opened his eyes to see Keith coming back over to him with a glass of water. 

“Here,” he said, placing the cup into Shiro’s hands, with a twinge of worry shrouding his face. Shiro accepted it and allowed himself to drink. The side had rivulets of water from condensation, cool against his skin. The water felt so cold and refreshing in contrast to his warm body. He exhaled and placed the glass on his desk, some tension in his muscles easing away. 

“Thanks.” 

“It’s no problem.” Keith looked down to his feet. “Oh…” He removed his loafers and set them down on the mat by the door. Shiro bent down to follow suit, but felt a wave of queasiness as his vision spun. He groaned softly and pressed his eyes closed in an attempt to lessen the sensation of the world spinning before him. 

Suddenly, Shiro felt his shoes being fiddled with and raised his eyelids to see Keith taking them off for him. He blushed, visions of Cinderella swirling through his mind. Shiro’s footwear joined Keith’s. 

“Thank you again.” 

Keith nodded. 

“I’m feeling a bit better than earlier,” Shiro continued. He leaned back, turning his gaze towards the ceiling. “I wonder what happened all of a sudden.” He flicked his eyes down when he saw movement, and landed on Keith’s frown. 

“Nothing serious, I hope.” 

“I’m sure it was nothing,” Shiro assured. “Low blood pressure or something.” 

Keith was still tense, and looked as if he wanted to do his best to physically fight any low blood pressure Shiro might be experiencing. 

“I’m sorry, this probably ruined our- the night.” 

“It didn’t,” Keith insisted. Shiro gave him a grateful smile. 

“Sorry that there’s not much to do here.” He scanned the room. “We could listen to the radio, but it’s getting late and the walls are thin. We wouldn’t want to disturb the neighbors.” 

“That’s okay,” said Keith. “You don’t have to entertain me.” 

“I’m the one that invited you over, though.” 

Shiro mulled over things that they could do. It was too late to cook, and he didn’t have any board games. It suddenly occurred to him that he didn’t really have any leisure time between his arubaito, schooling, and studying, in addition to researching. Did he really not have any hobbies? He exercised and cooked, but did that really count? 

Shiro tried to get up onto his feet so that he could search for something for them to do, and immediately regretted it. The room danced before his eyes, swimming and jumping. He clung to the chair, and without it would have surely fallen to the floor.

“Shiro!” 

Keith was suddenly next to him and tenderly helping him sit back down. His hand lingered protectively on his shoulder. Relieved silence followed, as Shiro reflected on what had just happened. Shiro suddenly felt something, and looked over to see Keith passively playing with a lock of his hair. Their gazes met, and Keith’s eyes widened. Like he’d touched something hot, he pulled his hand away. 

Shiro blinked, blushing. Keith’s eyes were averted, and his eyebrows were furrowed. 

“Could I-” he faltered, then regained his composure and tried again. “Could I play with your hair?” Immediately, he covered his face with his hands. “Ugh, I’m sorry. Forget it.” 

Shiro’s cheeks were aflame. 

“Kogane-san, I-” 

Keith tentatively lowered his fingers to below his eyes. 

“I’d love that,” Shiro finished. Keith hid his face again. So cute. Shiro laughed good-naturedly. “I’m serious. Here, I’ll go and get my comb-” He stood up, and his knees buckled. In a flash, Keith was sitting him back down again. 

“I’ll get it. Just tell me where.” 

“Okay, okay.” Shiro raised his mismatched hands in defeat, then inclined his head towards the bathroom. “The comb is in the drawer in there.” 

Keith nodded and went to push the door open. Shiro heard the sound of the drawer hinges squealing, and then Keith rummaging around. He reappeared holding a comb. 

“You’re so organized,” he remarked. Shiro gave a sheepish grin. 

“Thanks. I have to be, with such a small apartment.” Shiro pictured sitting in the desk chair while Keith was playing with his hair. He didn’t want Keith to have to be standing the whole time… 

“Kogane-san, would you help me set up my futon?” 

“What?” 

“That way, we can both sit down.” 

Keith nodded. “Alright.” He grabbed the stack of pieces that was against one wall, and Shiro left his jacket draped over the chair and slowly dropped to his knees to help him roll out the mat. They placed the shikibuton on top of it (the sheet was already on it) and then spread out the kakebuton. Shiro lifted up the kakebuton and put his pillow under it near the top, then sat down. Keith settled in cross-legged behind him. 

Shiro felt Keith carefully unwind the elastic at the bottom of his messy braid. (His hair was so sleek that it hated being confined and bits often slipped out.) Keith started running his fingers through to undo the sections. The loose hair felt silky and cool against Shiro’s exposed neck. He was glad that he’d freshly washed his hair before they’d gone out. 

The soft tugging of the comb started, and a few times he felt the teeth grazing his back. Keith gradually worked his way up the length, almost reverent in his motions. 

“You’re good with hair,” Shiro told him. 

Keith ran the comb through Shiro’s bangs and over the top of his head, then down to the ends. He didn’t respond at first. 

“Thank you.” It was a bit abrupt, as if he wanted to say something more. Shiro opened his mouth to inquire about it, but before he could say anything Keith began elaborating. 

“I used to have long hair too.” 

Shiro pictured Keith’s fluffy hair being longer and smiled to himself. 

“I bet it was cute,” he said before he could think. His hand flew to his mouth, cheeks aflame. What on earth had he just said? God, he was stupid. “Not that you aren’t cute now, because you are-” He stopped himself, appalled. That little addition certainly hadn’t helped his situation. “I’m sorry.” He laughed awkwardly. His face was definitely scarlet, and he was glad that his back was turned. 

“Why is it short now?” Shiro asked, eager to move on. Keith’s hands had stilled, and Shiro worried that his slip of the tongue had weirded him out. 

“Well, when I got sent to live with my aunt, she cut it.” 

Keith set the comb down next to Shiro, and then twirled his finger around a lock of hair. 

 

“Why did she do that?” 

“My dad was always lax about that sort of thing, but my aunt was very traditional and had a strict set of rules.” 

Shiro noted the use of past tense. 

“When she sent me into a youth institution, I never got the chance to grow it out again.” 

“Youth institution?” Shiro echoed. 

“Yeah. Foster care isn’t really as common here as it is in America, and so they shoved all of us into a shared room.” 

“You don’t have to share if you don’t want to,” he told Keith. 

“No, it’s alright.” Keith sighed. “My dad died when I was ten.” 

“Oh, Kogane-san… I’m sorry.” 

“That was a long time ago.” Sadness tinged Keith’s voice, like frost brushing rose petals in silver. “I never knew my mom, and my only living relative was my aunt, who lived here. Japan,” he clarified. “My dad taught me both Japanese and English growing up, so I thankfully already knew the language.” He paused, threading his fingers through Shiro’s thick hair. 

“I’m sorry, I’m bad at telling stories.” 

Shiro looked over his shoulder and offered a smile. 

“I think you’re doing great.” 

Keith gave him a grateful half-smile in return before continuing. 

“I was a stupid kid. I got into fights when people made fun of me, or when people looked down on me. My aunt and I clashed all of the time.” 

Shiro pictured a smaller, angrier Keith. 

“She called me a burden and even said that things would be better if I’d just died with my dad.” Keith’s voice was cold and hard. 

Shiro’s heart ached. How could someone say that to a kid, no matter how rebellious? He wanted to hold Keith tightly and never let go. 

“She eventually cut off ties with me, relinquished guardianship, and sent me to a youth institution…” Keith’s sentence faded out. “I haven’t seen her since and don’t want to.” 

“I don’t blame you,” Shiro remarked. Keith’s fingertips brushed over his scalp, massaging softly, and Shiro felt as if he could melt underneath them. Keith’s cool skin felt so nice against his own; the care and attention he was receiving made him feel warm in his very core. It was strangely intimate, in a way. Shiro wondered if this was stepping over the line of friends. 

He hadn’t been so close to someone since… Well, it had been a long time. 

“Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me,” he said. Keith made a sound of affirmation, and twisted Shiro’s hair up into the shape of a bun. He released it and the locks unwound from each other before swinging around Shiro’s shoulders. 

Shiro yawned quietly and covered his mouth. The light overhead, though weak, suddenly felt too bright. His eyes ached, and he wondered what time it was. His eyelids started to droop, despite his best efforts to combat his sleepiness. Keith’s touch was just so relaxing, and it had been such a long day… 

Would Keith mind? Shiro’s head bowed, although he tried a couple of times to sit up straight. At last, his self-control succumbed to the potent power of exhaustion rolling through him, and he dove into the ocean of sleep. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Shiro awoke with his kakebuton covering his body. The foggy memories of the previous night came into focus, and he groaned quietly. He recalled how he’d managed to fall asleep sitting up. A quick glance around the dark room told him that Keith was gone, and he couldn’t hear any rain outside. No light was filtering in through the blinds, and he wondered what time it was. 

Shiro could sat up and scrambled for his watch on the desk. He squinted at it in the blackness surrounding him, pressing the button on its side to light it up. 3:30 am… So he’d been asleep for around four hours. His head throbbed with dull pain. He moved to run a hand through his hair and found that it was braided. (It was rather messy, but whether that was due to sleep or Keith’s handiwork, he wasn’t sure.) 

Shiro’s heart fluttered like the wings of a small dove when he pictured Keith braiding his hair, lowering him down, and tucking him in. His prosthetic was still attached, and he guessed that Keith hadn’t wanted to tamper with it, or maybe felt that that would be crossing a line. Shiro fumbled with the straps to take it off and unsteadily laid it aside. 

Shiro rested his head back onto the pillow and closed his heavy eyes, feeling content and peaceful at the thought of how Keith had cared for him. He floated back to sleep with a smile on his lips.


	8. Bay City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro wakes up to a vanished Keith, but finds a sweet note that Keith left him. As Shiro does further research, he uncovers the answer that he was searching for, however, he was unprepared for the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cEuwmxYpKjQ  
> For this song I like to think of Shiro being the speaker, talking about both Adam (who will be talked about in the next part of the series) as well as Keith.

When Shiro blearily opened his eyes in the morning, the first thing he did was pad over to use the bathroom. After he’d washed his hand, turned off the tap with a towel, and left, he noticed a piece of paper on his desk that hadn’t been there before. 

Curious, he moved closer and picked it up for examination. He held it close to his face since he hadn’t put on his glasses yet. On the paper was a little note from Keith, scratched out in messy handwriting. He appeared to be the type of person that presses down hard when they write. 

Shiro- You fell asleep and I didn’t want to wake you up. Thanks again for everything. I hope we can see each other soon.

-Keith 

There were several sentence fragments that had been vigorously scribbled out, but most were indecipherable. 

One stood out, however. It was before the very last sentence of the note, and said “I wish.” Keith must have then reconsidered and decided not to say that. He wished what? That his strange predicament was figured out? Or… something else entirely? Shiro told himself not to overthink it, but he couldn’t help it. 

Beneath the message was an adorable drawing of the two of them underneath an umbrella. (To make the identities of the cartoon caricatures clear, Keith had apparently felt it necessary to label each of them with their full names.) Both figures had little smiles and were blushing, which keith conveyed with shaded ovals on their cheeks. 

The drawing reminded Shiro of the umbrella writing game that his classmates had played in middle school. One drew an umbrella and then wrote both their name and their crush’s name underneath it. Shiro only did it once, and was filled with guilt and shame immediately. He’d written the name of one of his male friends. Before anyone could see, he had quickly scratched it out with ink and flipped to a new page. 

Now that Shiro had grown into his identity more, the idea of an ai ai gasu with him and Keith made his pulse quicken. He wondered if the thought had crossed Keith’s mind when he drew it. He traced his thumb over Keith’s tiny inked face. 

Shiro was feeling better than he had the night before, although if he moved too fast he got a brief dizzy spell. He had a throbbing headache behind his forehead and eyes. His stomach still felt like it was being squeezed, but that could just be due to hunger. He carefully set down the paper and then went to prepare breakfast. 

Shiro put his pan on the tiny stovetop and then smoothly turned the heat on. He cracked two eggs into the sizzling pan and, while they were cooking, pulled some leftover rice out of the fridge. He would have preferred some freshly-steamed rice, but he wasn’t someone who liked to waste food. 

As he sluggishly shoved chopsticks full of food into his mouth, he felt a sense of gratitude that he didn’t have any classes to attend that day. If he was feeling better later, he’d go to the library before his shift. 

In the meantime, Shiro needed to study. Finals were stealthily sneaking up on him, but he wasn’t going to fall for their trap. He had always been a good student, and that wasn’t about to change. He knew that a great many of his fellow students skipped and didn’t read the assigned material, but he would never do that. 

Shiro settled into his chair to begin the reading that he’d pushed aside the previous night so that he could spend time with Keith. His History teacher had gone at too leisurely of a pace this semester, and was now trying to stuff in a mountain of material before the course ended. Shiro fretted about being able to retain the massive information dump that he was getting, but there was nothing that he could do about it besides keep on top of things and review the material. 

Shiro took notes on things he suspected might pop up in the test questions, and after an hour of reading closed the book with a satisfying thump. He checked his watch, which read a quarter past ten am, then went to pack bento that he could eat before going to his arubaito. He wasn’t up for running a marathon, but was feeling greatly improved and wanted to visit the library. 

The lunch that Shiro packed consisted of left-overs and some fresh fruit, and he carefully tied it with cloth so that none would spill when he carried it. Deciding not to wear his prosthetic (he simply didn’t feel like it), he got dressed for the day. He noticed in the mirror that the white section of his hair now had spread to cover a swathe that extended beyond his bangs. It was disconcerting how quickly the strands were changing color. 

Shiro grabbed his lunch and bag. He looped them over his arm as he locked up the apartment, and then was on his way. His attention was diverted to a peculiar sensation deep in his gut, like the hard pit of a juicy, shining red cherry. It was almost foreboding; it was an anxious sense that something either was amiss or would soon be. 

Shiro couldn’t think of anything that would be wrong. He had made sure that the stove was off, and he didn’t seem to be in any obvious danger. It was probably lingering nausea, however, so he tried not to dwell on it too much. 

The walk to the library seemed to stretch on longer than usual, with the blocks feeling as if they took twice the time to traverse. It wasn’t hot outside, but without cloud cover the sun made everything extraordinarily bright. Shiro had to squint, and eventually removed his glasses and tucked them into his breast pocket because the glare was too much. He knew the way, so he would be okay. 

His legs felt heavier, like they were waterlogged or he had weights tied to his ankles. Small pangs of pain shot up his nerves like sparks. Just when he was starting to think that it might have been a bad idea to leave the house, he arrived at his destination. 

Shiro opened the door to warm, stuffy air that was the now-familiar smell of must enveloping him. He politely inclined his head at a librarian as he passed her by, and he could feel her eyes prickling the back of his neck as he walked away. He settled into his usual spot and rested his bag and lunch on the table. 

Brilliant noon-daylight spilled into the room from the window, catching the copious motes of dust swirling in the air. The diverse colors of the book covers appeared washed-out under the intense sunbeams. As he pondered what topic he should research, he played with a lock of hair. 

He was a loss for what to do. He’d already researched all of the floods that had recently occurred in the vicinity, and it was leading nowhere. Keith’s name was never listed among the missing people, and he reached a dead end. 

A thought suddenly dawned on Shiro, like the blinding light from the window that cut through the dim library. Maybe he should look into Keith’s high school? It seemed like a bit of a stretch, but maybe it could answer questions as to why Keith’s uniform didn’t match the ones he’d seen students wearing.  
Problem was, Shiro didn’t know where to look to find information on Shounagon High School. It was unlikely that there was a published book on the subject. 

Nevertheless, he was determined to at least try. He had nothing to lose. Shiro stood, and his vision was momentarily overrun by blackness. He gripped the chair for support until he felt stable, then went off in search of a librarian for assistance. He was not concerned about leaving his things behind, considering that there was nobody else around and his keys and wallet were in his pocket. 

First, Shiro located a librarian rearranging books, shoving them roughly into their proper spaces and grumbling under her breath. He decided to steer clear of her. Next, he came across another librarian sitting at a table and checking returned books for their check-out cards. With his gentle face, he appeared a lot more approachable.

The librarian stopped to run a hand through his thick black hair. It looked like it had once been well-cared for, but now was dull and limp. He tugged on a lock, as if thinking to himself that it was getting too long. He wore a nametag on his button-down shirt reading “Okumura Eiji.” 

Shiro noted that he seemed a little young to be working in a library, but it was probably just his youthful appearance. Shiro guessed it wasn’t really unordinary, he just had a schema in his head of what a librarian ought to look like, and Eiji didn’t fit that model. 

Shiro purposefully stepped harder than normal as he walked up to him so as not to surprise him. Eiji lifted his gaze. It gave him a bit of a shock to see the deep mourning within his eyes. A raw, powerful sense of loss like a fresh wound, gaping and crimson. They were the eyes of a broken man. Looking into those eyes, Shiro’s own heart began to hurt, even though he didn’t know what had happened to Eiji. He started to think that maybe it would have been better to go with the grumpy librarian, but it was too late to back out now. 

“Hello. How may I help you?” Eiji asked. His voice was kind, but a bit frail. Shiro hesitated for a second. 

“Hello. I was wondering if you could help me find some material on Shounagon High School?” Shiro asked, sounding a little tentative in his attempt to speak softly. 

“I’m new here, but… I think we do have some material on that.” He gave a small smile. 

Shiro was a little surprised that there was actually information available. 

“Sorry, but by any chance could you show me where?” 

Eiji carefully closed the book he had been checking and pushed it over to a pile of finished ones. His hands were thin. 

“Of course.” He stood up slowly and began in the direction of a section of the library where Shiro had seldom been before. Contrary to the relative tidiness of the rest of the library, this corner was a chaotic mess of boxes and stacks of paper. How could anybody find something in here? Apparently, Eiji could. 

He scanned the shelves for a moment, and then his gaze stopped on one of the boxes. He stepped over to it and reached up, outstretching his skinny fingers. He was barely too short, with his fingertips only brushing against the cardboard. Shiro quickly stepped forward and got it down for him. 

“Thank you,” said Eiji. The box was no bigger than a wide shoebox, and when he popped off the lid a cloud of dust bloomed from within. Coughing, Eiji flipped through the contents and returned the lid. “Here. This is the right one.” He gave it back to Shiro, who smiled gratefully. 

“Thank you so much for your help,” he said. 

“Of course.” 

Shiro found himself wanting to offer his condolences for whatever Eiji was going through, but it would have been impolite to make any assumptions. 

“I’m around here often, if you ever need anything,” Shiro told him, hoping that what he was saying didn’t come off as creepy. A glimmer of mirth shone in Eiji’s eyes. 

“Shouldn’t it be me saying that to you?” 

Shiro laughed quietly. 

“Yeah, I suppose that’s true.” 

Eiji’s lips moved into that sad smile once more. 

“Well, I’ll see you around?” Shiro said. 

“You know where to find me.” 

The pair of them parted ways, and Shiro would have waved if he hadn’t been holding the box with his only hand. Still harboring concern for Eiji, he peeked over his shoulder to see him traipsing back to his table, his brief smile already fallen. Shiro hated to see anyone depressed, but he wasn’t sure what he could do and he didn’t want to pry. 

He returned to his spot, sat down, and then focused his attention onto the box. He opened it up, and even more dust puffed out like steam. Inside was a collection of various paper pieces of this and that. 

Shiro placed the top of the box aside and slid on his glasses. The sun must have been covered by a cloud, because its rays weren’t nearly as powerful as they had been before. He carefully began sorting through the items one-by-one, gray dust staining his fingers. He took out each piece and inspected them for possible clues before setting them on top of the lid. 

There were black-and-white photographs of classmates with their names scribbled on the backs with faded pencil, articles detailing baseball games won or advertising festivals, and what piqued Shiro’s interest the most: uniform catalogues. 

Most of them were very old, upwards of a decade. Shiro didn't overlook any of the box’s contents, for fear of missing something. There were various styles of uniforms, from seifuku to blazers like the Shounagon High School students wore now. The models had quiet smiles, and in the back of Shiro's mind he wondered where they were now and what their lives were like. 

Shiro picked up a photo and saw something beneath that made his heart jolt. Hand trembling, he set the photograph aside and picked up a glossy catalogue page. The images were very faded, but he was certain. The males were wearing the exact same gakuran that Keith wore. 

But… Fear climbed within Shiro as his eyes shifted down to the year in the corner of the page. “1960,” it read. 

Shiro’s eyes widened, and he dropped the paper. His breaths came quicker, and his pulse felt thick in his veins. He tried to think rationally, panic battling coherent thoughts. What did it mean? He snatched up the paper again to study it, to make sure. There was no doubt. The uniform was an exact match to Keith’s. 

Suddenly, Shiro scrambled to his feet. He took a couple staggering steps and then collapsed onto his knees in front of the local history books, the ones he saw every day. He rapidly read the spines. 1930-1939, 1940-1949, 1950-1959, no. There. 1960-1969. Shiro pulled the tome off of the shelf, shaking, and frantically flipped to the appendix. Koucha, Kouen, Koukou… There. Kouzui. Flood. His throat was dry as he yanked off his watch and used it to mark the spot of the appendix. 

Shiro began turning back and forth to the pages that referenced a flood. His muscles were tense, and his face was warm as his eyes moved up and down the pages. On the fourth entry he flipped to, he let out a shuddering breath at what greeted him. 

“Flooding of July, 1961,” was the title, in bold black letters. The article included an image picturing a ravaged street, with buildings ruined and debris strewn everywhere. It was unrecognizable, but the picture’s label indicated that it was in the same area of the city that Shiro was right now. Hoping, praying that his deepening suspicion wasn’t true, he pressed on, taking in every word. 

“Deceased,” a small text box said. Shiro skimmed the list, and just as he was nearing the bottom and getting a twinge of relief, his eyes fell upon it. Keith Kogane. Hot tears pricked in the corners of Shiro’s eyes. He blinked them away and tried to regulate his breathing, but it was fruitless. 

Keith was dead? And he’d died over twenty years ago? There had to be some mistake. Maybe there had been another Keith Kogane. 

But the more that Shiro dwelled on it, the more sickeningly dreadful sense it made. The feeling seeped into Shiro’s core like heavy black ink. Keith’s lack of knowledge pertaining to common modern technology, how he vanished whenever it rained, how he always appeared the same and with clothing saturated with cold water… 

Shiro covered his face with his hand and let out a ragged sob. Without him holding it open, the book closed and laid there forlornly. God, how had he been so stupid? How had he not figured this out until now? The book wherein his answer was kept had been right there in plain sight the entire time. 

‘Keith is dead.’ Every time he thought that, a fresh wave of terror, confusion, grief, and nausea rolled over him. So what was Keith, then? Shiro knew, deep within his heart. He didn’t want to accept or even acknowledge it. 

Keith was a ghost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much if you made it to the end!! <3 It would mean so much to me if you left a comment, I worked really hard on this and I have never written a story like this before. Sorry if the reveal was totally obvious, haha.
> 
> Please subscribe to the *series* so that when I upload the second half of this story, you can be notified! c:

**Author's Note:**

> A huuuge thank you to SecretAgentManG for being my awesome, amazing beta/emotional support! Thank you to Scifikimmi as well for being a cool person and helping with characterizing Eiji <3 Thank you to all the others as well that gave me encouragement along the way c:  
> Thank you to museaway for helping me with the embed files! I'm absolutely clueless, haha.  
> My lovely artists are Ghostiekins from Ghostiekins.tumblr.com, as well as OSCEN from oscensonata.tumblr.com. Go show them the love they deserve!
> 
> Remember that comments and kudos give me the strength to keep going ^~^


End file.
